


the loveliest vision in this dark world

by beyonces_fiancee



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Historical RPF
Genre: Emotions, F/F, Language of Flowers, Longing, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prose Poem, Regret, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyonces_fiancee/pseuds/beyonces_fiancee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your kiss quenched no thirst and soothed no burning pangs within my breast. It only spurred me on, drunk with desire, to take all I could and more from the fresh ripe wetness of your body and the honeydew of your mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the loveliest vision in this dark world

**Author's Note:**

> Written to Anactoria, beloved, by Sappho of Eressos, on remembering her.

Three years since the light of your gaze has fallen on my face, and still you set my blood coursing. In the square I heard your name dropped like a purple fig, as though boys shook the ripening trees for harvest, and I grabbed it and sucked the sweet juice of your memory. The woman speaking was not speaking of you—how could she be, so far from the dust your feet tread—but it drew to the surface our time together. It called forth my memories of you and with them tortured me. That is not strictly true; I always remember you, and am always tortured. Your name, Anactoria, my love, my ghost, the one that dogs my step and makes my sleep uneasy with longing, was just the bucket drawn from a well that sinks deep.

When I saw you last you wore a fragrant crown of lilies in your hair and smiled to see me, reaching out to draw me closer. Your kiss quenched no thirst and soothed no burning pangs within my breast. It only spurred me on, drunk with desire, to take all I could and more from the fresh ripe wetness of your body and the honeydew of your mouth. You kissed my eyelids and my gasping mouth and drew me past the trembling summit to swoon in sunlight, naked, crying out your name, falling with you to bathe in the springs of paradise. I long to see you again as we were, beneath the shade of the myrtle grove, holding one to another and kissing tenderly, your eyes dark and hungry as you touched me begging and held me shuddering.

Long ago, long before I burned with missing you, when you and I were close, we met in the city. I bought fish and a bunch of flowers, primroses and ebenus and gladioli. You bought a loaf of bread and a promise from me. You told me to come to your rooms after the moon set. I hardly dared to speak alone with you then, but I came, bringing my flowers and a trepidatious heart. I came, expecting to steal a kiss or two from your lips in the drought of you—you gave me a monsoon, you flooded my body with boiling heat and from my flesh scalded out all else except you. You twined your fingers through the dark curls of my hair, you grabbed and tore at my flesh, your fingernails left raised red welts and bruises on the skin of my breasts, and I ground myself closer to you as though to become part of you.

You let fall words that betrayed your love, words murmured into my shoulder and pressed there by the ghostly sensation of your lips so tender that I died as you kissed me. I ache now to think of it, your tongue pink and wet behind your lips, your teeth sunk into my inner thigh, my back a taut bow strung with the force of your arm and shuddering as you drew me back. Do not let that bolt fly—draw it further and further back—bowstring quivering with power—fingers clenching—the shaft aimed straight for the pounding heart—plunging deep and from the love-wound the dark blood gushing like wine... Please, my love, return to me, return and lay your words upon me, and let me hold your head to my burning breast.

Do you remember the sweet sighs you breathed, and the sweat flung from your hair as you threw your head back? Do you remember the clutch of your fingers laced in mine, and the shaking of your clenching thighs? Love, your belly beautiful like a hillside windy with poppies and rosebuds, your legs my whole world, your sweet close darkness, acid and fragrant—I cannot speak with words when I see you thus, and my tongue melts on touching you. The taste of salt licked from off your quivering flesh stays with me, and hot nights when Cassiopeia turns overhead, I lie long hours awake, ablaze, tasting and tasting the memory of you within the slickness of my lips.

I cannot live another day longer without hearing the music of your laughter, wandering lightly through the olive groves outside the walls of Eressos, drinking strong wine with you and sharing with laughter mouthfuls of wine that spilled rich and dark on the grass. I cannot live without the joy of your laughing eyes, the twist of your mouth as you tease me, the twist of your mouth different when you cannot tease me for moaning, when you must press your lips tight to keep from betraying us with an agonized cry. How I love to see you caught in anguish despite yourself, clinging to me, jerking with the force of sensation, your mouth open wet and choking. I pull you close, closer, and inch you back. I suck your juices from my fingers like ambrosia, feeding my fill at this heavenly spring. I remember the taste of your cunt and die again. In Anactoria's name, and for Anactoria's sake, I die a thousand times.

Oh, my golden doe, my gazelle, turn aside from the deer-path you follow and bound down through the valley of my heart. I hope with held breath to see you drink at the stream below. You pick up your dainty feet as though to spurn the earth, your liquid eyes catch mine, and I still breathless waiting. The stream courses over the white rocks, it falls joyfully in foam and spray on the white and shining rocks, it pools in little lapping waves around your feet. Why wander farther? Why leave me empty and longing for the sweetness of your breath, the mist in the dawn? Stay in the glade here beneath the juniper trees, and breathe in the morning.


End file.
